whats the closest u have been to being busted?

First time; sitting in a small car park with my ex and another mate, Lowrie, at about 11 in the night. Cop car pulls into the car park right as I'm skinning up. Luckily although the headlights caught us dead on as it come in, it had to pull round to come up to us, so I chucked everything into the ditch behind us while the headlights were pointing away, (there's no street lamps or anything) and then got a cigarette out, and as they parked up next to us, I lit that up. They asked us what we were doing, and we said we were meeting Lowrie, cause she'd just finished work at the chippie. They told us to go home and watched us walk outta the car park, but we went through a pedestrians-only path so they couldn't follow us further, then we waited a bit, doubled back and thank-god, found everything I'd ditched.

Second time; Me and Stewart, out for a drive with Bob. Probably about 2 am, we were going over the Brecon Beacons, and this totally random cop car pulls up out of nowhere, pulls us over and asks us all to get out. In the time between spotting the cops and being pulled over I hid the weed and stuff in my trousers and jacket, and the two cops were both male, so they searched Stewart and Bob, and the car, but couldn't search me. They took our details down, said it was just a random check, and let us go.

I had my grow room all set up with pots of soil and everything, door was open, and i had seeds sprouting in the soil, but they were just underneath the top soil.

Well anyway, the cops came to my house cos of something some little shit said, and they saw the grow.

Luckily there was no plants and i said i was going to start growing, but haddnt got any seeds yet, i said i was going out the same day to buy some, and he said, ok, we cant arrest you for that then, so the issue got dealt with and that was that.

I waited about 6 months before i tried to grow again..

BUt when i was in the holding cell, the copper was talking to me, and we had a big conversation about why cannabis is illegal, and he said most police officers in UK want it legal, cos it takes up way too much of their time..

Quote:

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Originally Posted by Radio Caca

Last summer I was playing basketball, and I had long hair back then so I had a sweat band on. Anyways, after we we're done playing me and a friend bought a dime each and we each rolled a blunt. We we're gonna smoke one and then the other one later that night after the NBA finals so I put mine under my head band and forgot about it.

When detroit lost, I was pissed and decided to walk home. I walked in my house and talked to my parents for like 15 minutes and then go to my room where I notice I still have a blunt pressed against the side of my head. Like I said my hair was long, so it was hidden a little but still obvious. A week after that I was so scared my parents where gonna have that "talk" with me, but it never came. I guess they're dumber then I am....

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Now that was funny.

Last week i was picking up an ounce about 100 yards from my house at a bus stop [ The drug problem in my town is so bad no one cares anymore]

Any way, as i walk down the street, there's this cop car parked up, no sirens or lights, just parked up outside this house. I got a bit worried, cos i though they might be on to me.

Anyway, i cross the road, walk a bit further, and i hear sirens. I thought nothing of it, but i knew it was an ambulace [ I can tell by the two tone]

Anyways, i pick up my ounce, have a spliff with me dealer and walk back home.

Now the cop car is still there and now there's an ambulance too, no lights or sirens, and no body sitting in them.

I think someone might have died in the house, i dunno, so i guess really, i was near being caught, but its still no fun, spesh cos im extremly paranoid about everything.

well... being busted, but other than that, i got pulled over in a friend's car when he had 3 ounces, we thought we were busted for sure

we just picked up an ounce of chronic, in 4 bags ( 7 gram, quarters ) annd.
in my state if its in the many bags you can get busted for DISTRUBUTION not possesion..

we pulled into a bowling ally to see if it was open, reached my hand out the window.. pulled on it. it was locked.. all of a sudden i hear something lock its breaks .. its a car, didnt notice it was a cop untill he turned that big ass flashlight on us that is by his side-mirror, we all freaked threw on our seatbelts and the cop just drove away :-p

The closest I got was when my friend and I were smoking cigarettes at a trainstation(we were obviously underage) so the cop tells us to come over to him. We both had glass pipes on us and he tells us to empty our pockets. I was wearing ripped up jeans and the cop could tell that I was shaking. I had a hackysack in one pocket and a bowl in the other, so when I reached in the pocket that had the bowl in it I just said there was nothing in it. The cop actually believed me and said if "I catch either of you smoking its going to be a ticket."
That day really scared the shit out of me....10 minutes later another cop comes and my friend starts bitching at him saying that their treating us like shit cause we smoke pot and he arrested her.

oh dude...the closest ive ever been to being busted is when i was smokin pot, and my P.O. called me up, told me to get into detention...so i got really fucked up and they busted me

When I was in the Army, I was in Grenada, and I had a money-making enterprise going. I'd buy a pound or two of pot ($120 a pound!), smuggle that back to the States in MRE (Meals-Ready-To-Eat) bags on my once-a-month R&R trip, then sell it at Fort Bragg for $80 an ounce. For the return trip I'd buy a dual-cassete player from Sears for $99, then sell that in Grenada to the locals for $350, then repeat the process. (Was funny that no one ever noticed that I never left Grenada with a boombox, but I always arrived with one!)

Anyway, I had a pound of pot in an MRE bag in one pants pocket, and a real MRE in the other. On the flight back we stopped in Puerto Rico to refuel the plane, and I went inside the terminal to kill some time. One of the customs inspectors asked me if he could have an MRE, since they were new at the time, and he'd never eaten one. Not thinking, I whipped one out and handed it to him.

Then I wondered, hmmm, did I hand him the real MRE or the pound of pot? I felt the one I still had, and I could tell it was the real one, which meant I'd just handed the customs inspector a pound of pot. Not good! My heart immediately started beating super fast, but outwardly I kept my cool. I pulled out the real one and thrust it into the custom inspector's face and told him that I preferred the flavor of that one, so could we switch, and he said sure, no problem, and handed me back the MRE that, had he opened it, would surely have landed me in Fort Leavenworth for some hard labor for a few years.

Man, that was close!

Quote:

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Originally Posted by jamstigator

When I was in the Army, I was in Grenada, and I had a money-making enterprise going. I'd buy a pound or two of pot ($120 a pound!), smuggle that back to the States in MRE (Meals-Ready-To-Eat) bags on my once-a-month R&R trip, then sell it at Fort Bragg for $80 an ounce. For the return trip I'd buy a dual-cassete player from Sears for $99, then sell that in Grenada to the locals for $350, then repeat the process. (Was funny that no one ever noticed that I never left Grenada with a boombox, but I always arrived with one!)

Anyway, I had a pound of pot in an MRE bag in one pants pocket, and a real MRE in the other. On the flight back we stopped in Puerto Rico to refuel the plane, and I went inside the terminal to kill some time. One of the customs inspectors asked me if he could have an MRE, since they were new at the time, and he'd never eaten one. Not thinking, I whipped one out and handed it to him.

Then I wondered, hmmm, did I hand him the real MRE or the pound of pot? I felt the one I still had, and I could tell it was the real one, which meant I'd just handed the customs inspector a pound of pot. Not good! My heart immediately started beating super fast, but outwardly I kept my cool. I pulled out the real one and thrust it into the custom inspector's face and told him that I preferred the flavor of that one, so could we switch, and he said sure, no problem, and handed me back the MRE that, had he opened it, would surely have landed me in Fort Leavenworth for some hard labor for a few years.

Man, that was close!

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That's craaaazy! You got so lucky! :)

All these stories are great, I would post mine but I'm still traumatized from it. :mad: